


You Went to School (and Found Out You're Dumb)

by et2zarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Set in America, and a bit of a slut, and chicago, and wisconsin, but it's unrequited, except not really, harry and niall are a thing, liam likes bad boys, louis has a crush on niall, more like zayn, zayn is the son of a mobster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 16:09:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/et2zarry/pseuds/et2zarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which One Direction aren't really One Direction, but five guys who live in Wisconsin in the 1970's and they get themselves into a lot of trouble.</p><p>A/N: This is absolutely terrible and I'm probably never going to finish it but I don't want to delete it so...I warned you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're an Angel, Got Me Feeling Like a Devil

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely fictional. Also, this is not beta'd. And most of the summary is within the tags. That is all. I think.

#  **Niall and Harry**

It's a quiet, lazy, average day in Wisconsin, meanwhile Harry and Niall are high, floating on clouds because they’ve got _nothing left to lose and nothing left to do_ , in the wise words of Harry. And it isn’t like this is a special occasion. It’s a Saturday, only 7:30 a.m., and the sun is climbing its way to the top of the pale-blue morning sky, offering Harry and Niall a comforting, barely there, radiating warmth through the window of the tiny room. 

This is routine for Harry and Niall. Harry will stand outside the rocky side of Niall’s house, the side where Niall’s room is, Niall’s dad will leave for work— coffee in one hand, briefcase in the other— and as he walks out of the door, Harry will, almost immediately, climb his way up to Niall’s room and will push himself through the tiny, circle-shaped window. He always goes for Niall’s bed because it always smells like cotton candy and gumballs and everything else that a seventeen year old boy shouldn’t smell like, even though he knows that Niall will just push him back off so he can have the bed to himself and _you selfish bastard_ Harry remembers calling Niall. 

They don’t do awkward _hello_ ’s or _good morning_ ’s or _hey, bro_ ’s anymore. No, they’ve passed that sometime during the middle of freshman year and when Harry, all awkward limbs and curly hair, a hushed voice and unabashed giggles, rushed through the window with a bag filled with something that took forever to acquire. (Now it usually goes like this—

_“Do you have the stuff?”_

_“Harry, please, I’ve told you stop calling it the stuff. See, this is why we don’t get invited to any parties.”_

_“No, we don’t get invited to any parties because we are losers with really shitty cars.”_

_“And awkward clothes”_

_“And ridiculous hair. Seriously, we should think about getting haircuts.”_

_“No, fuck off.”_ ) 

But it’s not unkindly. Because Niall and Harry are just Niall and Harry and that is just how they work. And if Harry just happens to start singing _that’s how we roll_ in a terribly off-key voice, well, Niall will be right there with him to call him a loser even though he’ll later join in. 

But— and Niall has learned this after many mornings they’ve spent together, getting high behind the school’s football field and nearly getting caught every time— a stoned Harry is a horny Harry. And okay, sometimes Niall and Harry aren’t just Niall and Harry; sometimes they are Niall and Harry, the best friends who have sex. A lot. 

So somehow (in between 7:18 and 7:25 Harry suspects), they’ve ended up on the floor, clothes crumpled as Harry wrestles his way to straddle Niall’s hips (not that Niall is complaining).

And somehow,

anxious hands grab for purchase on sweat slicked skin, scratches and love bites materializing on each of the boys. A constant mantra of yes, I want and ah, right there intrude their ears and Harry isn’t sure which one of them says it nor does he care. He just knows that yes, he wants. and Niall is there to give. 

It isn't until now that Harry realizes that Niall is still in his pants and it's a nuisance. It's not fair. He all but whines (and later on today, he’ll argue that he was just high and needy) as he tugs on a belt loop, too busy biting a bruise into Niall's shoulder to actually verbally express that, well, Niall with clothes on just isn't fair. 

Harry whines once again, and he’ll continue to deny it as many times as he needs to, as Niall pushes Harry back, halting his actions on Niall’s belt and interrupting the love bite that he was so graciously trying to give Niall.

“Harry,” Niall calls, “Stop. Listen. I think my dad’s home.”

Harry freezes at those words. And while he is sure that Niall’s father is nice, he doesn’t exactly feel like getting caught in such a compromising position with his son. 

“I thought you said that he was at work?”

“That’s because I thought he was.”

They scramble around, Niall spraying the room with scented aerosol (and where did that come from again?), Harry trying to find his clothing articles that had been strewn across the room in a haste.

“Shit, Harry move faster, get in the closet. And put some fucking pants on.”

“I am trying,” Harry huffs, “But I can’t do everything at once.”

_You could if you would stop talking and just get in the fucking closet,_ are the words that Niall doesn’t say. He wishes he could.

Harry just barely makes it in the closet while Niall tries to fan around the smoke, hoping that it will just suddenly materialize anywhere besides the room, when Niall’s dad opens the door to Niall’s room. 

An awkward silence fills the room as his father stares at Niall suspiciously. There’s no way he doesn’t know what his son is up to, but if he’s not asking, Niall sure as hell isn’t going to tell him anything. 

“I’m taking your car to work,” he finally says. “Mine isn’t working.”

“Okay, yeah that’s fine,” is all Niall responds. 

His father goes to close the door again, but before it is shut, he says “Oh, and hi Harry.”

Niall’s face heats up as Harry calls from the closet “Hello Mr. Horan.”

“I was seventeen at one time, too, kid. I know what you’re up to.” He finally closes the door, leaving with a parental smirk on his face. And his father doesn’t forget to tell him to _“open a fucking window, you can smell that weed from downstairs!”_

Sometimes, Niall is the slightest bit concerned about his father’s parenting tactics. But again, Niall _isn’t_ complaining.

By the time Harry pushes out of the closet, he finally has his pants on, his awkward button up only done half way up, but his hair is still a disheveled mess and Niall is pretty sure that he is only wearing one sock, one that might not be of Harry’s true possession.

“Maybe getting caught was a good thing,” Harry offers, “We have that project for Mr. Wembley due on Wednesday. We haven’t even started on it.”

“It’s due Wednesday. We still have Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday morning. Or, we could just get Louis to do it. Y’know he offered.” Harry knows he shouldn’t take it personal— Niall is only half serious. Hopefully.

And while he isn’t a pushover, not by far, it is a lively-known fact that Louis, Harry’s older brother, has a crush on a younger, blue-eyed blonde who goes by the name of Niall. Louis would probably do anything of Niall if he asked. 

“Yeah but, that would be taking advantage of him. Let’s just start on it right now and get it over with, yeah?” 

“Or we could just wait until Monday, after school and finish what we were doing earlier.”

“Or we could start on it right now, finish it tomorrow, and when we’re done, finish what we were doing earlier.”

Niall thinks about this proposition of a moment, and then accepts the offer with a firm “I suppose that will work. For now.”

Once Niall pecks Harry on the lips, the project is long forgotten and the weed is far gone that once sat in the crumpled bag across the floor.


	2. Jack be Nimble, Jack be Quick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You got a...little something..on your shirt," Harry (unhelpfully) informs.
> 
> "Yes. I know," Liam ruefully responds."

#  **Liam**

It's a Monday morning, 11:23 a.m., to be exact, the first day of school— for Liam at least, and it has already been a terrible day. And, if the consistent and rolling dark-gray clouds paired with strikingly blue lightening and roaring thunder weren't a 'in-your-face' type of warning, then Liam should have at least known that something was wrong once he rolled out of bed, took one glance at his calendar, and saw that it was Monday. _Monday_. And so far, and he's been keeping track— further evidence to prove that the universe and all its gods are against Liam, so far, at least _five_ things have gone wrong, and he's not even half way finished with his school day. 

Besides the fact that it is, indeed, a Monday, Liam mostly blames his torturous and doomful day on the shoes' doing. His mother and the shoes.

_"Liam, honey, wake up or you'll be late on your first day." And Liam, bless his poor heart because he's in for one terrible day, rolls over on his stomach, shoves his face into the pillow and mumbles something incoherent (something along the lines of **get out, ma** his mother suspects), trying to ignore the incessant wake up call of his mother. _

__

_"Liam, wake up this instant! I have already picked out your outfit and shoes and you can't afford to be late on your first day. And unless you want to walk, I suggest you get ready now before your father lea-"_

__

__

_"I'm up, mom." Liam should feel bad for interrupting his mother's current rant, but— and the sun has yet to reach the top of the sky yet, so Liam is pretty sure that it's pretty early— 6:00 a.m., and it is way to early to be dealing with early morning rants. He should also be slightly worried about his mother picking out his clothes, he's seventeen— almost eighteen, he doesn't need his mother picking out his clothes. And he would be worried if he was any other teen boy, but he knows his mother, so he just lets her do as she pleases as long as he gets taken care of in the process._

__

__

_"Good. Your clothes are in the bathroom." And this is routine for Liam; his mother will leave his clothes in the bathroom, waiting there for him to finish his shower, fresh and clean._

__

__

_"Okay. Out." Sometimes Liam is amazed at the things he can get away with and the things that he can say to his mother._

__

__

_Once he finishes his shower and sees the outfit, more so the shoes, that his mother has laid out for him, he just knows that today will be a bad day. To say that the shoes are ugly is an understatement—they are **hideous** and sued and a color that he wasn't even sure existed, but he knows that can't just not wear the shoes, so he slips them on and gives himself a personal pep talk before walking down the all-too-creaky stair case._

__

__

_**This is going to be a really bad day,** he thinks as he realizes that said shoes also squeak as he walks._

__

Liam is sure that the shoes were the start of his terrible day. But Liam isn't a pessimist, so he tried to keep his head up high. But apparently optimism isn't the way to go today because things start to fall apart already in first period.

_Being the new kid has its advantages. For instance, no one can really judge you yet because they don't **know** yet. But it also has its disadvantages. Being the new kid, you don't exactly have many friends, so when the teacher tells the class to partner up, Liam sits awkwardly in his chair as students begin to mingle together. The only other student available is a girl with braces, high pigtails in her hair (supported by brightly colored hair ties), and glasses. And Liam doesn't judge books by their covers, so he wouldn't really have a problem being partners with this girl._

_But._

_But the girl is an absolute nightmare. She talks entirely too fast, her words blending together, Liam is sure there's spit that isn't his accumulating on his face, and every time Liam even suggests an idea for their assignment, she shoots him completely down and proceeds to call him an idiot. Eventually, she insists on finishing the assignment herself and Liam isn't going to stop her._

_And even though the assignment had been a mess to deal with, Liam finds that being partners with the girl wasn't the hardest thing to do. No, the hardest thing was trying to figure out a way to gently say **no thanks, I'm not into girls and besides, I think you're really crazy** once the girl asks him out. He only later finds out that their isn't a nice way._

_Liam was sure that the unfashionable shoes would keep everyone away from him, but obviously he was wrong and was disappointed to see that the shoes have failed him._

Things hadn't exactly brightened up for Liam as the day progressed. 

_"C'mon. Come on. Are you serious?! Argh!" Liam finds himself banging his own head onto his locker door (five minutes after the bell has rang), and he can already feel the red of a bruise forming on his forehead, but he thanks the high heavens that everyone else is in class and that no one sees his mental self destruction. That is until—_

_"Are you okay?" Liam freezes for a moment because surely he had just imagined that voice, surely he had just imagined that by some strange luck— or lack thereof— someone has actually managed to witness Liam's first meltdown._

_"Dude," the voice questions, only an ounce of concern hinted, more irritation than anything._

_"I'm sorry," Liam starts because really, "Can you repeat that? I didn't really um..yeah," he trails off._

_"I asked if you were okay." "Oh. Yeah. I'm fine I'm— yeah." "Then move. You're blocking my locker." "Oh. Sorry. So sorry." Liam moves out of the other boy's way, a stuttering and embarrassed mess, and, if his forehead wasn't already red from his previous actions, he was sure that his entire face now was._

_His face was painted with something that resembled confusement as the stranger before him fiddles with the lock on **Liam's** locker and oh. **Oh**. Liam's blush only grows redder as he realizes that the locker is in fact, not his._

_"Was there a reason that you were banging your head on **my** locker?" Liam wants nothing more but for the ground to open up and swallow him whole because why had he picked today to be the most awkward guy on earth? "I might have thought that it was my locker. I thought I had the combination wrong when it wouldn't open."_

_The stranger (and Liam should really stop thinking of him as that. He's obviously a student) is now retrieving his books from the locker. "Hm. And did you try the locker next to this one?" The amusement is evident in the stranger's student's voice. Too embarrassed to speak, Liam just shakes his head curtly and proceeds to the lock to the right of the other boy's._

_**33, right turn, 10, left turn, 1, right turn**. Liam is ready to die of embarrassment once he hears the distinguishable 'click' of the lock being successfully unlocked. "Oh," Liam whispers. "There ya go, meltdown boy," the other boy mocks. "Liam. It's Liam." "Of course it is." "What?" The boy doesn't repeat himself, only looks down and says "nice shoes, Liam," and walks down the hall after shutting his locker._

_"Are you coming?" the boy calls out. Liam shuts his locker and runs to catch up with the other boy. "Where are we going?' Liam questions. "English? I'm assuming that with those English books that you were on your way to English and there's only one English class during second period so.." "Oh. Okay."_

_Liam is certain that, by now, he is at least ten minutes late for class and his thoughts are verified when the teacher, who doesn't even look up from her desk, greets them with a "Ten minutes late, Malik? Detention." And this must be a common occurrence because the boy only responds with a cheeky "Really? I was hoping that we could have our date tonight." and the teacher doesn't even look appalled._

_The teacher does look up from her paper work on the desk though, sees Liam and says "Zayn, I see you've brought a new friend who is also late." "Liam." "Well Liam," the teacher continues, "Don't think that because you are new that you are exempt from punishment. Detention."Liam doesn't really try to argue with the teacher with that. His day has already been bad enough. "Take your seats._

Liam isn't really sure what he expected from the rest of the day, but he knows that it's third period and that it's lunch and that lunch is always a good thing. But it isn't, not really. Not today. He doesn't even blink when a guy, rowdy and clumsy, runs straight into Liam, his entire lunch tray colliding with Liam's new shirt. He just nods his head in acceptance to the apology and wanders around the lunch room in search of a table. 

He finds one, occupied by two boys, one with a head full of long, bouncy curls, the other with short but messy blond hair. He doesn't hesitate to slide his tray on their lunch table, the two look nice enough, and once he does, he doesn't get a _hello_. No, instead he gets a _you're probably sitting at the wrong table because people don't normally sit with us_. But again, the two are nice enough and soon he and the two boys, Harry and Niall he learned, are having a nice conversation going, despite the uncomfortable mess of a lunch that sits on Liam's shirt. But then,

"You got a...little something..on your shirt," Harry (unhelpfully) informs.

"Yes. I know," Liam ruefully responds."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was Liam's chapter, and you kind of met Zayn. I'm thinking maybe the detention scene with Liam and Zayn next chapter? Feedback would be lovely and thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> The first few chapters will probably be about the main characters and their background. Also, I have no idea what I'm doing but I kinda do. Comments and a kudos would be nice. If you'd like.


End file.
